The Rose Throne

by Mette Ivie Harrison

Lady Neca nodded. “Of course. If you say so.”

  Issa was helped to mount her horse by one of the servants, and then Duke Kellin led them out of the castle gates with Lady Neca by Issa’s side. She loved the smell of a bright autumn day. The sun rose late at this time of year, but when the sky was clear and blue, she could feel the neweyr deep below the earth, sleeping and becoming stronger with the rest. The hills were mostly gray, but there were occasional spots of yellow and blue from the fall flowers that grew by the streams.

  “You have a fine seat,” said a voice next to her. It was Kellin.

  She glanced about and realized that she had gone too far ahead and that the rest of the company was behind her. “Oh, I am sorry,” she said. Now it was her turn to apologize.

  “I worried that you might be headed to the land bridge on your own, too impatient to wait for next summer,” said Kellin, smiling.

  If this was his attempt at teasing, it felt awkward and forced.

  The land bridge was a half-day’s journey from the castle of Weirland. The farther north in Weirland, the colder and more difficult the terrain, even with the help of the neweyr. Both island capitals were nearly at the southern end of their kingdoms.

  “I thought we would go north,” said Issa. “To see as much as possible that is different from Rurik’s landscape.” The hills here were rocky and black, not covered in green, and the trees were smaller and already bare of leaves.

  “Would you like to lead?” asked Kellin.

  “If you are not afraid of where I shall take you?” said Issa. Without another word to Kellin, Issa kicked her horse to a gallop and took them north to the line where only pine trees grew. The line had been pushed back year by year by the neweyr and had in former years been much closer to the castle. Here were real mountains, not just the hills around the castle, and there were deep black scars where nothing grew at all, places some said had still not recovered from King Arhort’s grief and rage a thousand years before.

  Issa could feel the neweyr even here, though it was a starker, quieter kind than she felt at home. She reined in the horse and felt at peace.

  “You are trying to show how good a horsewoman you are,” said Kellin, breathing hard as he came up to her side once more. “So that I can warn Prince Edik never to challenge you.”

  “I only wanted to be sure that you saw this part of Weirland.” She gestured to the mountains. “Rugged, scarred, even barren in looks. But deep within, there is life.”

  “I see,” said Kellin.

  She turned away. “But we had better start back if we are to reach the castle by nightfall.”

  They turned back and met up with the others, where they ate a hurried picnic. It was then that a fierce autumn storm silvered the sky and cut through the air with sharp needles of rain. The party tried to continue onward, but they had not gone far before the guards insisted that they could not see their footing and it was too dangerous to go on. Issa could have trusted her neweyr to guide her, but not all the ladies had as much as she did, and there were the men. It seemed rude to leave them behind. So they found a small woods and sheltered there for the night.

  Kellin had seemed distracted and moody that evening, as if angry with her for the storm. She kept away from him, but she did not sleep well. In the middle of the night, she woke to a sound outside the makeshift tent the guards had erected for her and Lady Neca.

  She stood up and saw a figure in the distance moving furtively away from the campsite. She followed out of curiosity. The storm had blown over, and in a few minutes she recognized Kellin in the moonlight, leading his horse. What was he doing out in the countryside of Weirland without an escort to guide him?

  At the edge of the woods, he mounted his horse. Using her neweyr, Issa called for her own horse and was able to keep Kellin in sight while staying far enough back to avoid his notice. He seemed to have a very good idea of where he was going.

  Hours later, near dawn, when they arrived at the shore, Issa could hear the waves slapping against the mossy rocks. Her neweyr senses did not reach out to the water, but she was sure there was a ship there as the moon came out from behind the clouds of the storm.

  Kellin hurried toward the group on foot, his horse trailing after him. Three adults were helping along several children. Kellin spoke to them and seemed to be giving directions.

  Ekhono refugees, Issa thought. Kellin must have promised he would come to help them. Issa turned back to the woods on her horse and crawled back into her tent before the guards awoke.

  When she emerged from her tent in the morning, Kellin was there. “Did you have a good sleep, Your Highness?” he asked.

  “Yes, and you?” she asked.

  “Like a baby,” he said.

  Did he know that she had followed him? She did not think he did, but she did not know what to make of the man. Knowing he had an ekhono brother was one thing, but he continued to help the ekhono even while he was in King Haikor’s court and surely in terrible danger if the least hint of his true motives was discovered.

  The company made their way back to the castle, and Issa did not say a word to anyone about what she had seen.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Issa

  THREE DAYS AFTER the countryside visit with Kellin, Issa went to her father’s library. She had always found books to be the best way of seeing the world anew, and she needed clarity now more than ever. Her life would change dramatically soon, but she would still have to remember who she was and to whom she owed her duty. She stared at the rows of books in the circular shelves all around her, as high as she could see, up to the stained-glass ceiling overhead that bathed the room in a blue-and-green tinged light. Her parents had designed this library, and it was one place that had nothing to do with neweyr or taweyr; it was about knowledge that could be written down and shared with anyone, weyred or unweyr.

  But the library was not as comforting as she had hoped, and she was just leaving to go back to her own rooms when she saw Kellin.

  “Princess Marlissa,” he said. “I was looking for you.”

  “And why is that? Have you come to shout at me again? To tell me how fortunate I am and how easy my life is?”

  “It is easy, compared to many others. You have privilege and wealth many others can only imagine.” He nodded at the books.

  “You think I know nothing of hurt and darkness and sorrow?” said Issa, wishing again she did not argue with him every time she met him.

  “You have lived your whole life protected by your father, by your servants, by people who love you,” said Kellin. “You are a princess who will spend her days with nothing more on her mind than what jewels and gowns will suit her best. Your greatest fear will be boredom, or perhaps an occasional cruel word.”

  Issa gaped at him. “That is truly what you think of me?”

  “And why should I not?” said Kellin.

  “My life is not an easy one,” she said.

  “No?”

  “Do you think you are the only one who has faced loss? My mother died when I was only eleven years old, when I was just coming into my neweyr. The whole kingdom was looking at me to take her place, and I had no one to guide me. I was a child, a little girl who wanted to weep for her mother.

  “Instead, I had to be a grown woman, with all the burdens and none of the friendships. When other girls were using their neweyr for fun, to connect with one another, I had to use it for the kingdom. Every breath I take, every moment of every day, even my dreams at night, they are for my kingdom.”

  “And you think that is pain?” said Kellin. “Shall I tell you about when I discovered that Kedor was ekhono?”

  “Yes,” said Issa. She could not believe his life was so much worse than her own.

  “My father told me that it was up to me what to do. I could choose to reveal the truth and get the reward when Kedor was publically burned. It would be good for the estate to have the king’s favor. Or I could choose to take my brother to Weirland. We had to make the journey on our own, ho
wever. My father would allow me to take nothing from the estate, in case we were captured.

  “When I returned home, my father simply handed me a list of tasks. He never spoke of my brother again. It was only about using my taweyr, always using my taweyr, and making sure it was seen clearly by all around.”

  “Kellin, I am so sorry,” said Issa, putting a hand out to touch him. All her anger had melted away.

  But he jerked away from her. “That is not what I came here to say,” he said.

  Issa was confused. Did he despise her? Why would he tell her something so personal if he thought so badly of her? “Then what did you come to say?” she asked.

  “I came to speak to you about Prince Edik,” he said.

  Issa stiffened. That was the last name she had wanted to hear at this moment. Perhaps she was being childish, but she wanted to put off thinking of her dutiful future for just a little while longer.

  “He must have a chance,” said Kellin.

  “Edik?”

  Kellin nodded. “To be other than his father is. To be better. I think you may be his chance.”

  “When I am married to him,” murmured Issa.

  “You must give him no reason to be jealous,” said Kellin. “If he suspects for a moment that you—feel anything for another—he will tell his father.”

  “Ah,” said Issa. She stared into Kellin’s eyes, but he would not look back at her.

  “King Haikor needs only an excuse for war. And perhaps not even that,” said Kellin.

  “You think he would win, then?” Issa asked. She realized she would rather talk to him about this than have him leave her.

  “Your kingdom does not have the strength to withstand him. Your focus has been on the neweyr here. In Rurik, it is the opposite: the neweyr has been sacrificed for the taweyr. And the more time passes, the more urgent it becomes for the kingdom of Rurik to be bolstered in neweyr.”

  “You mean when Edik is king and I am queen,” said Issa.

  There was a long pause. “Edik will need you,” said Kellin, his voice strained. “Do you understand what I am saying?”

  Issa nodded. She understood perfectly. Edik needed her and Kellin did not. When she went to Rurik, she must not allow herself to think of Kellin as anything other than a servant of King Haikor, whatever she felt for him. And certainly she could not imagine that he felt anything for her.

  “Good. Because all that I do is for my kingdom, for the thing that is greater than I am and will stand long after I am gone.”

  Of course. Even his helping the ekhono, Issa thought. He did it for his kingdom. He knew the risks and he did not care about them.

  “When you come to Rurik for the betrothal, you cannot sit back and think that the court in Rurik will be like this one. You cannot be sure that the best of intentions will rule.”

  Perhaps he was trying to be kind, to offer her advice, but to Issa it felt only like criticism and it stung. “So you know what it is that I must become? You would shape the queen I shall be?” said Issa.

  “I see the beginnings of strength in you. But you must become harder and more suspicious. You must see conspiracies before they come at you. You must hold the throne.”

  “You want me to be like Haikor? Is that not what he has done?”

  “Yes, he has.”

  “With strength and steel?” said Issa. “With blood and death?”

  “That is not what I mean,” said Kellin.

  “No? But I should be flattered, I suppose, that you think so well of me. That you think I am worthy to be queen of your Edik.”

  “I was trying to help,” said Kellin.

  Was he?

  Kellin bowed his head. “I must go.”

  Coward, thought Issa as she watched him leave the library. But she knew that the word applied equally well to herself.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ailsbet

  IN EARLY WINTER, Duke Kellin arrived home from his secret errand in the north and was closeted with the king for a full day. When the king returned to court again, he announced that the betrothal ceremony between Ailsbet and Lord Umber was to be postponed until spring, and he said nothing about the wedding itself. He did not say why, and though Ailsbet received many pitying glances, she felt relieved. Nor could she see that Lord Umber was concerned about the change. When she asked him, he told her that it was obvious to him that the king had his mind on other matters.

  He meant her father’s new infatuation with Lady Pippa. King Haikor had fallen in love with a dozen different noble ladies in Ailsbet’s memory, always ending with a profusion of gifts and the king’s interest in a new lady. Her mother endured it because she had to, though this was one of the reasons she did not often come to court. Now Lady Pippa had taken the queen’s place at the king’s side while the court dined. While the queen must be content with ancient gowns from her early years as queen, Lady Pippa had new gowns of leather and velvet, with pearls or diamonds sewn on to the bodice. Her sleeves were sable and ermine, and her skirts were wide.

  Ailsbet had never been close to Queen Aske, but she resented the way that her father had neglected her mother. The king ignored the queen even when they met in the corridors of the castle. He spoke rudely to her and returned unopened the notes she sent to him.

  In particular, Ailsbet worried about Edik, who was learning all the wrong things from his father’s example. Though he was not unintelligent, he spent most of his time and energy in court considering how to eat or belch or fart more than the nobles who sat at the table with him. She had fond memories of Edik as a young boy, playing with his metal soldiers and his stuffed animals on the fine Caracassan rugs on the floor of his chambers, but now she rarely had a chance to be alone with him, and they never spoke outside of court.

  King Haikor seemed more prone than ever to fits of temper these days, and even his old friends were afraid of him. There were regular executions on the Tower Green, most by taweyr, of those who looked at him wrong, who spoke the wrong word to him, or who had land or titles he wished to give to Lady Pippa. Only Duke Kellin seemed above suspicion because of his canny ability to hold himself humbly, almost invisibly in the court. Whenever he did speak, he seemed to know just what to say to reassure the king. Ailsbet could not tell what this cost him, or if he was truly the sycophant that he seemed.

  In addition to the problems inside the court, there were rumors of growing unrest among the peasants, who had suffered from a series of bad harvests. Some said that entire towns were empty of life in the north of the kingdom. Of course, food was still plentiful in the palace, but even the nobles were worried for those who remained at home on their estates.

  Each time Lady Pippa appeared in court wearing a new bracelet, smoothing her hands over the imported ribbons that flowed from her waist when she walked, Ailsbet cringed. She could not speak to the woman civilly. She could hardly even look at her.

  Lord Umber found it all amusing. He joked that Lady Pippa would soon be forced to hire a litter to carry her about the palace, for she would not have the strength to hold up the weight of her jewels. Sometimes he would put his head to one side, in imitation of her. “King Haikor has given me another gift. Is it not lovely? Am I not the picture of womanliness?” he would ask in a strangled tone.

  Ailsbet laughed, glad that Umber was there to keep her sane. But she discovered soon that he was not entirely to be counted on. One night, he was called to dance with Lady Pippa, because King Haikor was tired and wished to see others enjoying the sport when he could not. Lord Umber seemed to enjoy the dance immensely, laughing, whispering in her ear, gazing down her low-cut bodice.

  Ailsbet had danced with him earlier in the evening, but being so close to him made her taweyr rise. She claimed exhaustion, but the truth was, she could not stop herself from wishing that there were true music for dancing that might calm her taweyr instead.

  Afterward, Lord Umber returned to her side, out of breath and dripping with sweat. He nudged her when she turned away from him. “Come, now
. Are you angry with me? The king commanded me to dance with her. You cannot think I prefer her company to yours? She is a half-wit, with only her face and figure to recommend her. But with you, I am never bored and do not have to retreat from your company to prevent myself from falling asleep standing up.”

  It was not as convincing as Ailsbet wished. And her doubts continued to grow, day by day, although Lord Umber stayed at Ailsbet’s side in court until the king commanded him to dance with another woman. Often it was Lady Pippa, but not always. He seemed to enjoy them all equally, though he always returned to Ailsbet’s side.

  “A man cannot help but be distracted by a pretty woman,” he explained. “But it is only a distraction. You are the honey that feeds my hive.” He made a buzzing sound and held out his finger as a stinger, circling Ailsbet’s neck until he touched her ear.

  But Ailsbet noticed that he did not nuzzle her in private or try to kiss her. He enjoyed their conversation and he appreciated her wit, but sometimes it seemed to her that he thought her another man and not a woman at all. She did not know what she should do to change this. She was afraid of what taweyr she might reveal if she became too intimate with him.

  To celebrate the coming of winter, King Haikor invited entertainers to court. There were fireworks, which King Haikor said were to repay all the people of Rurik who paid taxes to the crown.

  Ailsbet thought wryly that only those who lived very near the palace could enjoy the fireworks, which could not be seen more than a few miles away. She sat at Lord Umber’s right hand as the entertainers set up elaborate scenery with painted trees and streams and animals, dressed in costumes in the black and red of Rurik and the yellow of Aristonne, and used taweyr to enact mock battles. One of them was a reenactment of her father’s battle with Prince Albert of Aristonne himself.

  “I do not believe that I have ever heard Prince Albert was quite so small as that,” Lord Umber said, leaning over and whispering into Ailsbet’s ear.

  The actor playing Prince Albert was not full grown, but a boy of perhaps ten or eleven years of age, younger than Prince Edik. He was dressed in a yellow nightgown rather than the uniform of the other Aristonnian soldiers. He could hardly hold a sword and when struck, he cried out in a high-pitched voice that made the king and the court roar with laughter.